James Falls Down the Rabbit (or, um, Dumpster) Hole

I swung by the main community garden and picked up the pile of brown paper lawn bags from soil deliveries from Farmer D Organics' shop that had been left for anyone to use to put on the ground before mulching. I had told James Tola, who is the person in charge of the garden at the food pantry at the church directly across the street, where we are putting in the Plant a Row, that I would try to come by with the bags before he mulched the expansion, or, I suggested, he could put down cardboard or newspapers instead.

When I pulled into the parking lot at the church, its spots mostly full with churchgoers on a Sunday morning, I saw someone scrambling up the side of a dumpster way in a corner.  As I got closer, I realized it was James!

I had taken James for a neat and fastidious guy who doesn't necessarily like getting dirty, although he digs in anyway.  Yet there he was, in the dumpster, and then barefoot in the garden, spreading cardboard.  He laughed and worked with a purposeful, relaxed joy that I hadn't really seen in him before. 

We have a saying (based on witnessing it over and over again) that there's a point when folks involved with this urban agriculture stuff peer so much over the edge of the big, black hole of information and involvement that they literally fall down it, and it just gets deeper and deeper.   James, I have news for you.  You have now officially fallen down the rabbit (or, um, dumpster) hole.  You're now in deep.  Welcome.

See "But Then You're Raising Rabbits, " pages 209-211 in my book.

James Falls Down the Rabbit (or, um, Dumpster) Hole